


Wicked

by StrayLiger



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Choking, F/F, Hate Sex, PWP, that's it that's the thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28641624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrayLiger/pseuds/StrayLiger
Summary: Just what it says in the tags. Some Hunter/Yurie hatefucking with graphic depictions of violence because I'm nasty ft my Hunter Mia Hawke.
Relationships: Yurie/Hunter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> I have been sitting on this for almost literally a year so I figured I'd post it. No beta reading, not even a grammar check, just minor editing and a lot of horny energy and regret. I work in a call center and I have no morals anymore. If you're here for quality you're in the wrong place bud
> 
> will update the tags as I learn how nasty I actually am

The grunts of the two women fill the space of the building, but produce no echo, absorbed by the thick layer of dust, the cobwebs that cover every corner of the ceiling.

Yurie has lost her rosmarinus, but she still has the advantage over the Hunter, who can’t get closer to her without being torn to shreds by the sharp links of her cane. Despite being taller, Yurie is faster, lighter than her, and while Hawke knows she could take her down if she could get in close range, she hasn’t been successful. Yurie has killed her many times, and seems to enjoy it; when her sword whistles past Hawke’s head, knocking her hat off, she lets out a cry of pure glee that confirms what the Hunter suspected: the scholar is  _ mad _ , like everyone else in Yharnam, driven to insanity by her isolation.

Their struggle has pushed her back, and back, and back, and she only realizes how far she’s had to back up until she feels the floor disappear under one of her heels for a second, and she nearly loses her footing. Glancing over her shoulder she sees they’re at the grand curved staircase. 

Yurie’s laughter swells again.

“Got you!” she yells, and Hawke’s only eye snaps to face her again, and she cusses when she realizes that indeed, she let Yurie corner her, and on top of it, she allowed herself to be distracted-the scholar slashes forward, her sword extending into a long, sharp chain, and this time the Hunter acts on instinct: she reaches forward, dropping her axe and catching the chain in her hand, and pulls, ignoring the pain that flares as the links cut into her hand, right through her gloves, her skin and her flesh, and she has a second to bask in the bitter satisfaction of seeing Yurie’s shocked face as the brutal pull makes her stumble forward. 

The scholar crashes into the Hunter, sending them both tumbling down the stairs, in a tangle of limbs, losing their weapons in the process, oblivious to the noise they make as they hit each and every step on their way down, now reduced to clawing each other’s clothes, pulling at the other’s hair, punching and kicking and biting, feral and unhinged, until they land at the bottom with a particularly brutal blow, and they roll away from each other.

They barely take a second to recover from the fall; Hawke finds herself on her feet even before her eye can focus properly again. She can tell her nose and mouth are bleeding profusely. Yurie’s elbow hit her right in the middle of the face, but she barely registers the pain, because her whole body hurts, and because the other woman is already on her feet too. 

It’s the first time she’s seen Yurie’s face, and she’s shocked to see that she is (or looks) around her age; her hair is black and very short, and her almond shaped eyes are a very dark brown, almost black in the low light, and have an unnatural glint, like wet ink. She would be beautiful, but her face is split by a too-big smile, a terrifying smirk that seems to pull her cheeks apart further than it should be possible. She licks her lips and wipes the trickle of blood that drips onto her eyes from somewhere along her hairline.

“Beast” she says, and then bursts out laughing: her laughter sounds like a murder of crows all cawing at the same time. 

Hawke doesn’t waste time replying. She runs towards her with a growl, and Yurie does the same, and they both crash into each other again. This time, the Hunter manages to tackle the scholar to the ground, knocking her into a desk (she vaguely hears the glass containers full of eyes fall to the ground and break with the impact) and then to the floor. 

Once again, the two women struggle fiercely. Yurie kicks and screams, pinned down by Hawke, who straddles her waist and grabs her by the neck with one hand, smashing her fist against her face. She realizes she’s laughing, too. They both are. Yurie finally manages to grab her by the collar, and pulls her forward, and white stars go off behind Hawke’s eyes when the scholar’s forehead connects against hers; before she can recover, Yurie rolls over and Hawke’s skull bangs against the floor when she’s pushed back brutally, their positions flipped.

“You’re an animal” Yurie growls, her voice filled with disturbing glee, as she grabs Hawke by the neck. The Hunter trashes and writhes in her grasp, but Yurie is taller than her and not even with her unnatural strength she can break out of it. The scholar’s hand is an iron claw that constricts her windpipe, and Hawke can’t even let out a curse when she realizes she can’t breathe. Out of all the ways to die she’s experienced, choking is her least favorite one. She desperately tries to claw at Yurie’s face, grasping her clothes, but her movements become uncoordinated and clumsy with the lack of oxygen. Yurie laughs. “You’re a beast, nothing but a flea infested monstrosity. Filthy and vile!” the way she speaks betrays her delight, and this time, when Hawke opens her mouth like a fish out of the water in a futile attempt to suck air into her lungs, she shoves her fingers in her mouth, so far in that Hawke gags around them. “You like that? Oh you do. You do! I could see it in your face the minute you walked in!”

Hawke squeezes her eye shut. The world is turning red around the edges. She can’t breathe, she can’t move any more. She’s losing strength rapidly… and Yurie is leaning forward, pressing down with all her weight, constricting her chest even more. 

“You smell like a beast in heat” Yurie whispers, her voice sharp and cruel as a knife, and Hawke lets out a breathless whimper. Suddenly, Yurie removes her hand from her throat, and with the pressure around her windpipe gone, Hawke tries to inhale, to take a deep breath-but instead, she gets another mouthful of Yurie’s fingers, and she chokes, unable to resist her. Her hands uselessly paw at the woman’s clothes. Yurie leans forward, so close that she can feel her breath tickling her face. “Don’t look at me like that, hunter. I know you’ve had bigger things shoved down your throat.”

To her immense annoyance and anger, Hawke feels her face heating up-and even more, when she realizes that she’s drooling around the scholar’s fingers as they fuck her mouth, slow, but brutal. She whimpers, and tries to bite down on them, but the gloves keep her teeth from cutting into the skin, and Yurie only laughs. Finally, she pulls her fingers out of Hawke’s mouth, and then slaps her sharply across the face.

“Whore” Yurie growls, grabbing her by the lapels of her coat, and Hawke wants to reply, but Yurie’s sitting on her hips, and she can feel the swell of her breasts (much larger than hers, and warm,  _ so warm _ ) pressed against her chest through their clothes, and even though she tries,  _ gods does she try _ , her body grows hot and even the slap makes her want  _ more _ . “I bet you’re  _ wet _ right now, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you” the Hunter manage to croak weakly, earning herself another slap across the face; and this time, Yurie grabs her by the hair and pulls her into a kiss-a brutal kiss, that makes their teeth clack and sends a flare of pain down Hawke’s spine as Yurie presses her mouth against her split lip, but she ignores it in favor of pretending to fight back Yurie’s tongue as it forces its way into her mouth. A battle lost from the beginning, because she can’t help but moan into the scholar’s mouth, whimpering and whining when she bites her swollen lip and floods her palate with the taste of copper and iron of their mixed blood. Her hands fly to Yurie’s clothes again, tugging at them desperately. More.  _ More _ .

“Whore” Yurie repeats, laughing breathlessly, just pulling away enough from the Hunter to allow her to reach for the breeches underneath her flowy white robes, practically tearing them off rather than removing them, in a desperate attempt to reach her skin. Yurie shoves her back against the dusty wooden planks again, and scoots forward to straddle her shoulders, and the Hunter barely has time to register what is happening before Yurie grabs her by the hair and shoves her face between her now naked thighs.

The Hunter doesn’t resist: instead, she grabs Yurie’s thighs, gloved fingers digging into the bruised skin to pull her even closer, and immediately latches her mouth onto the scholar’s soaked cunt, her tongue thrusting into her fiercely, trying to taste as much of her as she can, and Yurie cries out and  _ laughs _ , grinding against Hawke’s face. Hawke doesn’t hear it: at this point, she is growling and slobbering, her mouth sealed firmly around Yurie’s clit, sucking at it sharply, hoping to feel her gush even more all over her face, and all that matters is the scent of warm, willing woman, her taste on her tongue, and the deep, impatient throbbing between her legs. Yurie’s hands fist in her hair, pulling to the point where it makes tears prickle at the corners of Hawke’s eye, but she welcomes every sting as the other woman’s thighs quiver and tighten around her head and cover her ears, deafening her. She wants Yurie to come in her mouth,  _ now _ , and sure enough, it’s not long before the scholar’s body tenses and she cries out breathlessly, and Hawke’s mouth is flooded with viscous, musky fluid that trickles down her chin and smears on her face.

Yurie shakes and writhes, trying to push her away from her overstimulated pussy, but Hawke has latched onto her, ravenous, driven wild by her lust, and she doesn’t let go until she’s made her come a second time. Yurie finally manages to push her away, and the Hunter earns herself a third slap that causes the back of her head to hit the floor again, before being pulled into another brutal kiss. With all inhibitions gone now, her hands fly to Yurie’s breasts, groping them roughly, causing the scholar to moan into her mouth, until she grasps her by the wrists and pins her down. Yurie bites down on Hawke’s lower lip fiercely.

“Be still, you fucking beast” Yurie growls against her lips. Her hands go to Mia’s torso, and rip her clothes open: Hawke can hear the fabric tearing, buckles clinking and buttons clattering as Yurie destroys her coat, her vest, her shirt, and finally reveals her scarred chest. Yurie scoffs. “Not much to show here, do you?”

“Fuck you” Hawke croaks, but doesn’t resist when the other woman’s hands slide up her now bare torso, almost delicately, until they cup her breasts, that fit neatly in the palms of her hands-and then grab her nipples and cruelly twist them between her fingers, making her cry out in pain and surprise. Her hands fly to grab Yurie’s wrists, but the scholar slaps them away, and this time she shifts her position to wedge her knee between her thighs as her fingers continue to roughly pinch and tweak Hawke’s nipples, laughing.

“I knew it. I have known what you wanted since the first time you tried to fight me” she says, lowering her voice as she leans down to speak directly into the Hunter’s ear. Hawke resists the urge to whimper, and turns her head to the side to avoid looking at Yurie-as much as the scholar’s attentions  _ hurt _ , she can still taste her on her lips, and that, combined with the pressure on her crotch, is making her heart beat fast, her breath become heavy and shallow, her body become hot and desperate. “Why else would you keep coming back to me?”

Yurie pushes her leg further between Hawke’s, and this time she has to squeeze her eyes shut as the movement causes the seam of her pants to rub against her clit. Her face is burning, she can feel it; she is  _ wet _ , like Yurie said earlier, and she can’t help it. Her body is opening up, surrendering to the scholar, and when Yurie bites her neck, hard enough to draw blood, she is unable to hold back a cry that can’t be justified with pain. She should feel disgust, or anger, or shame, but her brain seems to have forgotten the meaning of those words. All that matters is that she wants to fuck Yurie until she can’t speak, and that she wants Yurie to fuck her until she forgets her own name. 

“Don’t fret, Hunter” Yurie says, licking her lips, her hands finally leaving her sore breasts to struggle with the many belts and buckles of her pants. “I’m a good woman. I always return favors.” Hawke doesn’t bother with a reply, and instead helps Yurie with undressing her, nearly screaming in frustration at how long the process seems to take, compared to how easy it was to ripping the Choir’s light, flowing robes off Yurie. She ends up destroying a few of the buckles, losing control of her own strength in her despair, making Yurie laugh-but soon enough she is bare from the waist down too, very aware of how wet she is, of how sticky her thighs feel, of how her cunt throbs with need. This time she’s the one grabbing Yurie by the neck to pull her down into a kiss and forcing her tongue past her lips, demanding, and Yurie laughs into the kiss, not bothering to break away from it to manoeuver one of the Hunter’s legs over her waist so that she can grind her sopping, sensitive cunt against hers, making them both gasp. 

“ _ Fuck _ ” the Hunter growls, her hips thrusting upwards into Yurie’s convulsively in a desperate attempt to get more friction. She clings to Yurie’s shoulder with one hand, the other slipping under what’s left of her ruined Choir robes to grope roughly at one of her breasts, and they both moan, grinding against each other clumsily. “ _ Fuck!”  _ The scholar laughs breathlessly, seemingly taking great pleasure in her frustration, finally using her teeth to remove her gloves and tossing them aside. 

“Since you’re asking so nicely” she chuckles, her hand sliding down her companion’s slick thighs to finally,  _ finally _ touch her where she needs the most-and Hawke moans, throwing her head back, when Yurie cups her cunt, fingers rubbing her sopping outer lips, and the heel of her hand grinds against her clit. “You slut. Look at how wet you are…” Yurie doesn’t waste time pushing two fingers inside her, curling them expertly, and they slide in without resistance. “Tight… for a whore”, she observes, licking her lips.

“Shut… s-shut the fuck up!” Hawke gasps, as Yurie’s fingers find the spot inside her that makes her legs shake. Yurie laughs again, leaning forward to loom over her and grabbing her by the neck once more-not enough to choke her, just enough to hold her in place, and to her immense embarrassment, the Hunter  _ moans _ , her hips jerking forward without her being able to help it, at the weight of Yurie’s hand on her throat. Ashamed by her own weakness, she fights back the urge to cover her face with her hands-Yurie wouldn’t let her anyway. 

“That’s more like it” Yurie cackles, her voice coarse with barely contained excitement, as her fingers start pumping harder into Hawke’s pussy, filling the air with lewd, slick noises. She pushes a third finger, making her gasp in surprise at the slight stretch, and this amuses Yurie. “Too much for you, Hunter?”

“I-I’ve had…  _ ah _ , I’ve had bigger” she growls. The other woman’s fingers caress the sweet spot of her inner walls roughly, and Hawke feels her insides tightening around them. To hell with pride: she’s going to kill Yurie soon, anyway. Pressure builds inside her, in her belly, behind her breastbone, in her throat, and her legs shake. “F-fuck… I’m… I’m coming…” she wheezes.

Yurie leans down further, until her face is a scarce inch above hers, her whole weight resting on the hand around Hawke’s throat. Through her only, clouded eye, she can see the glint of Yurie’s dark pupils, blown wide by lust.

“Then come,  _ whore _ ” she snaps, and spits into her mouth, and Hawke  _ comes _ . Her inner muscles clench around Yurie’s fingers, her thighs squeeze against each other trapping her hand between them, and her whole body burns as the sharp, bright pleasure travels up her spine, forcing her to throw her head back, and for a moment she’s blinded by it. 

She swears that for a moment her own voice doesn’t come out as a cry, but as an animalistic howl, a noise that doesn’t belong in her body, too vibrant for her ribcage and her vocal cords. Her mind goes blank.

It seems she blacked out for a second, because next thing she knows, Yurie is no longer on top of her.

The Hunter sits up slowly, her head still cloudy, her movements clumsy, and she sees Yurie walking around, in her ruined choir robes. The scholar kneels to pick up her cap, and catches Hawke staring. For a moment, they both remain quiet, and all that can be heard in the ample hall is the sound of their still agitated breathing.

Finally, Yurie smirks.

“Don’t get used to this, Hunter” she says. 

“Shut up” Hawke retorts. Yurie chuckles quietly, and walks away from her towards the staircase, limping slightly, leaving the Hunter alone.

  
  
  
  



End file.
